


Lost in the Light

by Daisey_May



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Kissing, Love, Madwife in Another World, Sex, True Love, another universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisey_May/pseuds/Daisey_May
Summary: Laura is a bartender in her hometown of Eagle Point, Indiana, a town that has drastically changed over the past two years, rocketing from small and off the radar to an epicenter for Hollywood filmmakers and celebrities.Sweeney is a kinda/sorta popular actor with a bit of wild reputation, who happens to find himself in Eagle Point for the next few months to film a movie.From the moment he enters her bar, neither has any idea just how much their worlds are about to change.
Relationships: Laura Moon & Mad Sweeney, Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney, Shadow Moon/Mad Sweeney (American Gods)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	1. "I Don't Know You."

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a chance and placing LM & MS in another universe. I've never done this before, but it feels kinda nice, so I'm gonna stick with it. 
> 
> If it's your thing too, I hope you enjoy :) I'll be updating this fairly regularly. 
> 
> Thank you! XX

# Chapter 1: “I Don’t Know You”

She knew who he was before he had even stepped foot into the restaurant.

  


When she glanced up from the lemon she was meticulously cutting, she caught a flash of red hair gliding past the wide glass window, and took in the heavy, measured swagger as he pulled open the door and entered.

  


By the time he had reached the bar, she’d already decided that she was going to pretend she didn’t know him. That’s the thing she hated about celebrities, how they always expected you to know who they were, expected you to bend at their every whim, and if the last two years had taught her anything, it’s that they were all the fucking same.

  


In the span of just a couple of years, her small, homely, unknown town of Eagle Point, Indiana was no longer just a small, unknown town. Seemingly overnight it had become an unexpected epicenter for the filming of Hollywood movies, both big and small. Once or twice every couple of months you would find streets blocked off and dozens of trailers set up, the town flooded with people who came from a world she knew nothing about, and cared about even less. On the outside they were beautiful people, all glamour and sophistication, clothed in designers whose names she could barely pronounce, earning the type of money in a week that she wouldn’t see in a lifetime.

  


But that wasn’t what bothered her about them. She could care less about that material shit.

  


It was who they were on the inside. Pretentious, selfish, vain, ungrateful. The kind of people she didn’t want to know, the kind of people she didn’t want to be around. But suddenly they were everywhere, and all at once, infiltrating her quiet, unbothered life.

  


She didn’t know exactly what had propelled Eagle Point into the limelight. Some locals blamed a noname director who had gotten lucky on a low budget independent film, and they were probably right. The movie had earned millions in the box office, and had made a name for at least a dozen of the town’s residents. But she could also see the other side, the small town appeal. Maybe it was the laid back, sleepiness to it all that made it the perfect backdrop for movies. It could have been the allure of the open and untouched expanse of land, full of hills and low mountains, patches of dense forests and glittering lakes. Or maybe it was the town itself, chock full of stores and homes and farms and families that had been around for decades upon decades, some even centuries. And it had that middle America charm, that “gee whizz”, “good golly”, “heavens to Betsy” charm that people found precious and whimsical.

  


That, and the isolation. Eagle Point’s distance from any important social scene made it the perfect place for the stars to hide out. To be seen without being seen. Just enough to stroke the ego, but not enough to get them in trouble. The perfect balance.

  


But it was also her home, and she had become fiercely protective of it, no matter how boring or inconsequential she thought it could be. She’d been born in Eagle Point, she lived and worked in Eagle Point, and she’d probably die in Eagle Point, as grim as that sounded to most.

  


And she loved it, for the most part. She loved the library and bookstore and her bar. She loved her friends and the small cafes where she could drink lattes and read her books in peace.

  


But it was a place that no one else knew about that held a special spot in her heart. It was about a mile outside of the town, along a rarely used, overgrown path that led to a wide, open field, green in the spring and white in the winter, where she could watch the sun rise and the sun set, and lay in the pitch dark staring unblinkingly at the millions of stars in the sky, especially when her own darkness threatened to overwhelm her. Where she found peace during her most uncertain times. Everyday she prayed no one would discover it, so it would stay natural and untouched, hers, and only hers.

  


It had always just been Eagle Point to her. Now it had taken on a new, shinier appearance, and she hated it. She hated everything about it. Therefore, she hated the people it came with, which made being a bartender that much worse.

  


Her gaze followed him as he sauntered towards the bar, her annoyance rising with each step he took. He was bigger than she’d expected, much bigger, and when he pulled his obviously new winter jacket off to place it carefully on the back of the chair, she couldn’t help but notice the height his body reached with the stretch and the powerful muscles flexing beneath his shirt.

  


She hadn’t realized she’d been staring until she turned her eyes up and met his curious, hazel eyes staring straight back into hers, and her heart leapt up and into her throat.

  


She flicked her eyes away and quickly turned back to the lemons.

  


“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

  


Truth be told, she knew he would be coming. It was a small town, people talked and word got around. She also knew that it would only be a matter of time before the bar became a regular spot for him. Everyone knew he liked to frequent the local bars.

  


He wasn’t a huge, big name actor, but he came with a reputation and a rabid following. He liked to drink, he liked to fight, and on more than one occasion he’d been arrested for starting a brawl and breaking several bones. That sort of behaviour had earned him a nickname, one that he seemed to embrace wholeheartedly. He’d dated a bunch of model types, and even a few costars, and maybe even a resident or two in the places he’d worked in. Or, at least that’s what she’d overheard when a group of local girls chatted excitedly about him over the cosmopolitans she’d made for them.

  


She wasn’t a fan, but he did have a role in her favorite tv show. He played the bad guy. Fucking typical. On occasion she might find herself watching a movie he happened to be in, and sometimes she’d let her eyes linger on his body for longer than she should have, but she definitely wasn’t a fan. Far from it.

  


Also, she may or may not follow him on Instagram, but she wasn’t one to admit that. Besides, she barely used Instagram.

  


That still didn’t make her a fan, and especially not now, as he seated himself at her bar, in _her_ town, that would soon see his type crawling all over it.

  


She definitely wasn’t a fan of that.

  


“Want me to take him?” Salim asked from beside her.

  


“No, I got it,” she sighed, and with a forced smile she turned and walked to the end of the bar.

  


“Hi,” she said a little too cheerfully, laying a cocktail napkin onto the worn, woodgrain bar in front of him. “What can I get for you?”

  


He leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the wood, his eyes perusing the selection of bottles over her shoulder. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead choosing to smile wider as she dug her fingernails into her palm.

  


“I’ll do a… Jack and coke. Light on the coke, light on the ice, no lime.”

  


His voice was gravelly like he hadn’t used it in days, and heavily tinged with an Irish accent that rolled thick over his tongue. He definitely sounded the same, and it made her pause, but just for a second.

  


_So basically a shot of jack_ , she thought. _Right._

  


“Sure thing,” she breathed, turning her back to him and letting herself roll her eyes just for the feel of the release.

  


“There ya go,” she said, placing the drink on the bar and itching it towards him.

  


She turned to hurry away, but was stopped in her tracks when he began to speak again.

  


“You might be seeing me around here a lot.”

  


She sighed and turned back, her signature service smile returning to her face. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

  


”Well, I’m here for a movie…that I’m in,” he said, his voice low, his eyes sliding apprehensively to his right. She followed them to the only other patrons in the restaurant, a local couple that sat at the bar and had dinner from six to eight every Wednesday, who just like her, would live, work, and die in Eagle Point. She frowned and shook her head.

  


“Ya, I figured. We get a lot of your type in here.”

  


“My type?” He asked, frowning. “What is ‘my type’, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  


“You know. Like, ‘celebrity types’,” she said, emphasizing it with air quotes and raised eyebrows. “What I’m saying is, I wouldn’t worry about it… the secrecy. Not many people around here really give a shit.”

  


He narrowed his eyes and nodded sagely, leaning across the bar. His face was suddenly quite close to hers, and she could smell his cologne all around her, a scent that was both foreign and familiar, like the mist that moved in from across the ocean after a storm. But, she’d never been to the ocean. It briefly slowed her, her mind caught wandering in the scent and the strangeness before she snapped it back to attention.

  


“What’s your name?” He asked, taking a long sip of his drink.

  


“Laura.”

  


“Laura,” he repeated slowly, sounding out each syllable of her name carefully and precisely. “I’m Sweeney.”

  


_I know._

  


“Nice to meet you,” she said, reaching out to shake his outstretched hand. A pulse of electricity passed between them, and she pulled her hand back a little too quickly.

  


“Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping her hand on her apron. “Shock.”

  


“No worries. It’s just nice to be able to introduce myself, formally. Never fucking happens anymore, most people usually already know.”

  


She resisted the urge to snort sarcastically in response, thankful for his seemingly unintentional arrogance that brought her back to reality.

  


“Well, you’ll have to forgive me,” she said, finding her voice again and stepping back and away from the bar and his overwhelming, all around largeness. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of greatness.”

  


He laughed, abrupt and full, and it was a sound she found strangely likeable as it tumbled from his chest and into his throat. Without her permission, the corner of her lip curved into a smile, and when she realized it was there, she quickly put it away.

  


It was too late though, he had caught it, and his eyes sparkled with an interest that was not lost on her.

  


She cleared her throat, fidgeting with some of the bar tools in front of her. “Can I get you anything else for now?”

  


He leaned back in his chair, his eyes still watching her curiously, his long arms cradling the back of his head. “No… No, I think I’m all set for now.”

  


“Great,” she answered quickly, and turned to the safety of the back.

  


Salim looked up expectantly as she entered the side station.

  


“How’d it go?”

  


“Horrible,” she said. Picking up the bucket of silverware and napkins, she began to roll each set together.

  


He laughed. “It didn’t sound horrible.” He looked around her to the bar. “He’s way more handsome in real life.”

  


“I didn’t notice,” she said curtly, her hands busily folding the napkins around the forks and knives. She worked methodically, losing herself in a skill she was sure would be with her for the rest of her life.

  


“How long are you going to hide in here for?”

  


“I’m not hiding,” she hissed. “I’m doing my job. Like you should be doing.”

  


“Ok, whatever you say,” he murmured, but she could feel his eyes fixed on her.

  


They heard a phone ring from the bar, and she leaned back to look out. Sweeney was standing, the phone at his ear as he tugged his jacket back on. He glanced down the bar towards the side station, and she ducked back in.

  


Salim smiled widely. “You’re up. Remember to smile.”

  


She rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Shut up.”

  


“This is fun,” he said, and she heard his low laugh as she strode purposefully away from him.

  


“That was the call I was waiting for, so I gotta run. How much do I owe you?” Sweeney asked, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.

  


“Oh, yeah don’t worry about it,” she said, waving her hand. “First ones on me.”

  


“No, really, how much?”

  


“No, really. It’s on me. Think of it as my way of saying sorry for not knowing who you were.”

  


He grinned widely, and she noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled with the smile.

  


”Well, I’ll be back again, anyway. Will I see you?”

  


She shrugged. “Sure you will. If I’m here.”

  


He nodded and smiled, then shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned and walked away.

  


She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, watched him walk back through the heavy glass door of the restaurant, and step out into the cold, January afternoon.

  


She was about to look away when he looked back, catching her gaze. Her heart leapt into her chest and a blush spread hotly over her cheeks. She turned away and retreated to the back only to see Salim leaning against the wall smiling at her.

  


She sighed and pressed her hands over her eyes.

  


_Fuck._


	2. "You Don't Know Shit."

# Chapter 2: “You Don’t Know Shit.”

“I think he likes you,” Salim said excitedly.

“He does not. He doesn’t even know me, and even if he did, he wouldn't…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to. Salim knew where she was going with it, and he gave her a sympathetic smile that she didn’t want and certainly didn’t need.

“Fuck! Nevermind,” she huffed, the words coming out with more bitterness than she’d intended, and she immediately felt bad about it. She brushed past him so she wouldn't say anything else she might regret, and so he couldn’t see the blush that the panic in her chest was forcing onto her cheeks.

Once inside the darkened side station she leaned heavily against the cool wall. Salim didn’t follow her. He never did when she got like this, and part of her loved him for it and felt guilty for always taking her insecure shit out on him.

But she felt outside of herself, like something was different about her that she couldn’t control. There was a feeling, stuck and wriggling inside her chest, that had sprung up unannounced and uninvited when he’d sat at her bar, and it was lingering long after he’d left. It was something she wasn’t used to feeling, and something she definitely shouldn’t feel after a random encounter with a stranger, especially a stranger she had intended to hate.

These moments for her were few and (very) far between, but the effect was always the same, and brought with it flashes of memories of a time long ago when emotions had been easier for her, and she’d been quicker to accept them as important and true.

But that had been forever ago. Now it only hurt her to remember, and it only hurt her to feel it, so she avoided it like the plague, even if it meant being a shitty person just to protect herself. She shook her head to clear it. She didn’t want any of this. Especially not with him.

As she stepped back behind the bar, and took a deep breath, she convinced herself it hadn’t been real, and that made her feel better. Salim was still leaning against the wall, and she stood in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I was being a bitch, and it’s just, that guy, he’s…”

“Coming back.”

“Huh?”

Salim straightened and nodded towards the door. “Him. He’s back.”/

An electric shock pulsed out from her stomach, firing into every nerve in her body, and she quickly turned to see him pushing open the front door to step back into the bar.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it as she watched him move steadily towards her. He had an awkward gait, a heavy lumbering step with a touch of confident swagger, that suddenly stuttered and slowed when he looked up to see her watching him. He cleared his throat and approached the bar, looking everywhere but at her, and for a moment she thought he might actually be nervous, and she felt herself giving in.

A crooked smile began to pull at her lips, but in a flash it was gone. The warmth in her chest quickly cooled as she remembered what he was: An actor. And actor’s were good at shit like this. They were good at pretending. It hardened her resolve, so that by the time he had worked up the courage to open his mouth she was already waiting for him.

“Hi,” he said brusquely, his eyes darting to hers.

They were startlingly bright and unguarded, and she quickly looked away and wiped casually at the bar. “Hey. Did you forget something?”

“Ya. Ya I did.”

She looked back at him and raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Well?”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Your number.”

She almost laughed out loud. “My number?”

His smile faded into a frown. “Ya. I was wondering if I could maybe get your number?”

“You want _my_ number?” She asked again, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lip.

He shifted nervously. “Yes. _Your_ number.”

The laugh that was sticking in her throat could no longer be controlled, and when it came out, it rang loudly throughout the bar, catching the attention of the other couple at the end of the bar. She glanced down at them, and hurriedly covered her mouth, though she was still smiling behind it. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “But, um, why?”

He tilted his head, and a curious look crossed his face. That was when it hit her. He wasn’t used to being told no. She wondered if she was the first woman who had ever questioned his request. By the look of his face, she had a nagging suspicion that she was. A familiar feeling flared inside of her at knowing this, and it propelled her into a space where she was much more comfortable. A place that helped her forget the complexity of feelings. Suddenly she wanted to watch him squirm.

He shook his head, confused, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I, uh… want to see you.”

She smirked. “Well, you’re seeing me know.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he stammered.

“Then tell me what you mean?”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and as she leaned towards him she could feel his frustration swell with the heat from his body. She liked the way it felt. She liked the rise she could get out of him and how quickly she could get it.

“Like outside of here,” he explained, slowly losing his patience. “When you’re not workin’, ok?”

“Why?” She asked, her voice low and thick, letting her eyes drift down to his parted lips, and rest there. She could hear his breath pick up, and she struggled to control her own as her heart beat hard against her ribs. For the briefest of moments, she wanted to let go, and like a magnet she felt herself drawn to press her lips to his.

But she remembered her shitty impulse control, and she could’t. She just _couldn’t_.

As his face dipped in close, and his eyes searched hers imploringly, she dropped the smile, and pushed back smoothly off the bar. He clenched his jaw and his eyes sharpened angrily.

She cocked her head to the side, and when she spoke her voice had lost its softness. “Why? So you have someone to fuck while you’re here for what, a few months? Sorry, but no thanks.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Salim’s head snap up in her direction, a strangled cry coming from his throat.

“Christ, no!” Sweeney said, flinching away from her. “You’re real fucking blunt aren’t you?”

She shrugged and smiled, the pleasant hum of victory singing in her veins. “Sorry, I just… try to avoid that, _this_ , whole scene.”

“What, like actually enjoying someone’s company?” He asked sharply. “Imagine that, huh?” 

“No, not someone,” she said, her smile fading, and her annoyance rising. “An actor. I’ve seen enough of you to know exactly what you’re like and exactly what you're looking for. So like I said, I’m all fucking set.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he remained silent, nodding his head thoughtfully and watching her closely. His eyes searched hers, delving so deep that she found it difficult to look away even though her mind was screaming for it. Her heart quickened again as the careful guard she had put in place slowly began to unfurl. She knew he could see the space her anxiety was creating, and his lips curled into the knowing smile of a challenge accepted.

“What happened to you to make you so fuckin’ angry, huh?”

She sucked in a breath and clenched her jaw so hard she felt the ache in her teeth. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He chuckled. “Well, if you don’t mind me saying, _you_ don’t know shit.”

“Oh, I don’t?” She asked sarcastically.

He continued to laugh as he pulled at a cigarette that had been resting behind his ear. “Nope.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms protectively across her chest. “You wanna tell me what I don’t know?”

“Not particularly. I don’t think you’re ready to listen.”

She scowled at him as he eyed her thoughtfully without speaking. The blood from her racing heart rushed to her ears, and her anxiety curled over her stomach in waves.

“Look,” he finally said. “I didn’t come back here for a fuckin’ battle.” She eyed him warily for a moment, deciding if she should, or could, let it go. Her eyes flicked to Salim. He was silently begging her to “cut the shit” with his eyes. She sighed, turned back to Sweeney and nodded.

“Ok,” she mumbled quietly.

“Ok,” he said, his voice laced with relief. “And what you assumed about me… I’m not like that. I can prove it.”

She watched him silently, and he took that as some sort of sign, and continued.

“I just think you’re… interesting. Is that ok to say?”

He was trying. She decided she had to give him that. She wasn’t sure about him, not just yet. But she suddenly didn’t feel like playing with him anymore. So she gave it, just a little.

“I’m not gonna give you my number,” she said, and seeing his shoulders slightly sag in defeat, she hurried on. “But, I’ll think about… this.”

“Ok,” he said, and when he smiled, the lines around his eyes creased in a way that made her feel not terrible. She gave him a small crooked smile.

“Listen, I don’t want to push my luck, but I’m having a bit of a get together with some of my castmates that are already here in town. It’ll be at the house I’m staying in, it’s a...“

“Big white house off of Center Street?”

A confused expression crossed his face. “Ya, how’d you know?”

She shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Well, I’d love it if you could come. It’ll be small, so no pressure or anything.”

“Thanks, maybe,” she said. “But I gotta check my schedule.”

Before he left, he reached across the bar and grabbed a napkin and a pen. On it he scrawled his number, and when he handed it back to her, she smiled politely and folded it into her apron. After she watched him leave, she turned and came face to face with Salim.

“You know you have to go, right?”

“Were you listening this whole time?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. You know you can be really scary.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ll go. I’ll feel out of place.”

He moved to stand behind her, and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders. “I think you should. I think it would be good for you, you know, after everything with Shadow…”

She turned suddenly, her face flushed. “That’s not it, ok? It has nothing to do with…him.”

She couldn’t say it. His name was where she always fumbled.

“Ok.” Salim nodded, his big doe eyes staring into hers. “But, I have a good feeling about this. Don’t you?”

He’d been her friend for ten years. He’d seen her at her best and her absolute worst, and he’d never, not once, steered her wrong.

She sighed. “Fuck. Don’t make me regret this.”


	3. “Not My Scene”

# Chapter 3: “Not My Scene”

  


She regretted it.

  


If she were being honest, she’d regretted it when she told Salim she would go, long before she’d even arrived at the enormous house that had, for the past few years, been considered home to the celebrities who found themselves roughing it in Eagle Point.

  


Set back on acres of open land, it was one of the largest, nicest, and oldest homes in her town. The couple who had owned it sold it off to Eagle Point’s only real estate company when the movie business took off. They retired to Florida, and never looked back. Laura was afraid they would tear it down and replace it with something horribly unoriginal and modern, and that it would lose the history she craved to see before she’d be able to go inside.

  


But they didn’t. And here it stood, nearly the same except for a few modern upgrades that even she had to admit looked nice. For so long, it had been mysterious and left alone. Now it had become a revolving door for Hollywood’s elite. That was why she knew which house he was staying in. It was the worst kept secret in town. Luckily for him, most of the locals cared so little about the celebrities that came and went that he would almost always be left entirely alone.

  


She wondered if that’s what he wanted.

  


She drove her car up the long driveway, and parked. Pulling her jacket tightly around her, she stepped out into air that was so cold her breath froze into little clouds that hung around her head. When she took a deep breath, the air was icy in her nose and her lungs. It smelled like snow.

  


As she stepped carefully up the icy walk, she could hear the loud thrumming of music flowing from inside. She slowed and listened, catching the sounds of loud laughter and conversations over the deep bass.

  


“Fuck,” she groaned, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead. The nervous ball in her stomach coiled tightly, spreading apprehension through her chest.

  


_Small gathering my ass._

  


She turned and looked back at her car, considering her options. If she left now, no one would even know she’d been there. She could just get back in her car and go. She didn’t owe him shit.

  


But then she thought of Salim’s face, and his excitement when she agreed to go. He was always rooting so hard for her. And she remembered with such clarity the way her heart had raced when he first came into the bar. He had looked at her like he was really _seeing_ her, gently nudging loose long forgotten and locked away feelings. Before she could change her mind, she raised her hand and knocked hard on the door and waited.

  


And waited.

  


She knocked again, and tried the doorbell. No answer.

  


No one was going to hear her over the music from inside. She supposed she could just see if the door was open and let herself in, but she was feeling frustrated and stubborn again. She didn’t want to be there in the first place, and with what sounded like hundreds of people. That wasn’t what she agreed to.

  


“Fuck this,” she mumbled, and turned to leave. She’d managed to get halfway down the walk when she heard the door pull open and the sounds of the party spill out into the cold night air.

  


“Hey!”

  


She whirled around, slipping on a small patch of black ice.

  


“Hi, fuck,” she exclaimed, scrambling for footing. He dashed down the stairs and caught her arm, hauling her up and against him. She grabbed onto his shoulder and steadied herself.

  


Thrust so close against him, she was finally able to appreciate how tall he actually was, and how his body dwarfed hers. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. When she did he was grinning down at her, his hair a wild mess and his shirt untucked and open. A bottle of beer dangled loosely from his hand, and a cigarette was tucked safely behind his ear.

  


His grip on her arm tightened and like clockwork, butterflies fluttered around her stomach, filling her with that warm, familiar feeling. She lowered her head so he wouldn’t see her blush, and lifted her hand from his shoulder.

  


“I swear I’m used to this,” she mumbled apologetically, backing away as he released her arm.

  


“It’s you,” he responded simply, his accent thickened over the slurred words. She looked at him closely, took in the haziness behind his eyes and the hot flush in his face. He didn’t smell like he had the other day, like oceans and summer breezes. He smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. She wrinkled her nose, and the defeated butterflies retreated back to their respective corners. He was fucking drunk.

  


“Yes. It’s me,” she sighed. “Been enjoying yourself?”

  


He shrugged. “A little. But now that you're here...”

  


She couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. “It’s freezing, are you going to invite me in?”

  


“Shit, ya, come in.”

  


They climbed the stairs and stepped into the foyer and she immediately looked up and around. It was so immense her entire house could’ve fit into it. Her eyes looked past the modern upgrades, and lingered appreciatively on all the tiny, architectural details she'd so often wondered about.

  


“Wow.”

  


“I know, it’s fuckin ridiculous,” he sighed. “But my agent said…”

  


“No, it’s beautiful,” she said quietly. “I’ve always wanted to see what it looked like in here.”

  


The house was warm and she began to shrug off her heavy jacket. He quickly put his bottle down, and stepped behind her to help slide the coat from her shoulders. A shiver ran across her skin when his warm fingers grazed her cool, bare arms.

  


Behind her he sharply sucked in his breath, and she spun around. “What?”

  


“Nothing,” he said hesitantly. “You just, you look nice, is all.”

  


She smiled, and looked down at herself. She was wearing her go to outfit. Skinny jeans, a black T-shirt, and her favorite leather boots. Nothing special. But there was something about the way he was looking at her, drunk or not, that made her feel nicer than she had in a long time.

  


“Thanks,” she said quietly, then remembering the bag in her hand, she held it out for him to take. “Oh, this is for you.”

  


He took the bag from her hand and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  


“You remembered,” he said, looking at her in amazement.

  


“Don't look so surprised. That's what good bartenders are for, remembering drinks. Light on the ice, light on the coke. You want me to just get you a straw for the bottle?”

  


He laughed, and it was the same, deep laugh she’d heard at the bar that first day, before she had been unpleasant, before he had an idea of how difficult she could be, and a warmth spread through her at the sound.

  


“Maybe don’t drink it right now though,” she said, watching him warily as he wavered. She pulled the bottle away. “I’ll just put it on your bar.”

  


They walked further into the house, towards the bumping music and the din of conversations, and as they approached the crowd of people, he reached behind and took her hand. She startled, but held on, her small hand fitting snugly inside his.

  


“So I don’t lose you,” he shouted over the noise, sending a wink over his shoulder that both annoyed her and made her want to hold on tighter.

  


As he led her into the spacious kitchen full of people that were definitely not from Eagle Point, an anxious gnawing sensation began to grow in her stomach. Eyes passed from him, to their joined hands, and to her, travelling up and down her body as if they were inspecting and judging every inch of her. The looks she got were mostly from the women, their faces and hair flawlessly made up, wearing clothes that made Laura feel as if she were wildly underdressed. As they passed she watched them lean in to each other to smirk and whisper. Her heart began to race, and she forced her eyes to her feet.

  


When they reached the bar in a thankfully quieter room, he left her alone for a minute while he got her a drink, and she stood by herself awkwardly. She smiled politely at a few people who were looking at her, and turned away so she would have to talk to them.

  


“There’s a lot of people here,” she said nervously, looking up at him. “I thought you said it would be small.”

  


“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighed, his eyes scanning the room. “Word got out. I didn’t expect this.”

  


“You know, it’s your house. You can always just ask them to leave,” she said, her lips curving into a smile as she sipped on the vodka tonic he had gotten her. She resisted the urge to drain it and get another. Even though she knew they would take the edge off her nerves, nothing good had ever come when she ripped through drinks.

  


He smiled slowly and her heartbeat sped up as he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. But before he could get there he was stopped by two thin arms that wrapped easily around his waist.

  


“Oh,” Laura said, leaning away from him, and watching the arms curl up and around to hold onto his chest.

  


He twisted around, and a small woman with fiery red hair and bright green eyes appeared, and tucked herself underneath his arm. She stared at Laura expectantly”

  


”Sweeney, baby, are you gonna introduce us or just stand there with your mouth hanging open?”

  


Sweeney clamped his mouth shut and turned to Laura, his eyes wide and somewhat unfocused. “Ya, uh… Laura, this is…”

  


“Brigitte, honey,” she drawled, reaching out to grab Laura’s slackened hand. “Aren’t you sweet.”

  


“Oh, uh, thanks,” Laura said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  


“Where’d you find this one?” She asked, turning to look up into Sweeney’s face.

  


_This one?_ Laura thought, tilting her head and frowning up at him.

  


He took a long drink from his beer, and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

  


“Laura works at the bar I was telling you about,” he said quickly.

  


“Ah, that’s right. The one you promised to take me to, no?”

  


“Ya, I…”

  


Brigitte cut him off and trained her large, bright eyes on Laura. “Sorry honey, I don’t mean to break up the party, but I’m gonna steal him for a few.” She turned to Sweeney and ran her hands up and over his shoulders. “I got some people I want to introduce you to, mon amour.”

  


He sighed and sank into Brigitte, and a part of Laura’s heart sank with him. He looked over at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, this should only take a minute. I’ll be right back, ok?”

  


She nodded and forced a smile on her face, watching him disappear into the crowd of people.

  


“Laura?”

  


Laura spun around at the sound of her name, and her shoulders sagged in relief as she reached out and pulled her friend into a tight hug.

  


“Oh, thank god,” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled back and looked into Bilquis’ face. “Wait. Why are you here?”

  


“I could ask the same for you,” she breathed, glancing over at Sweeney standing with Brigitte.

  


Laura felt her face grow hot. “It’s nothing.”

  


She poke one long fingernail at the center of Laura’s chest. “You hate these people, Laura. Don’t try to fool me.”

  


“Really,” she promised. “I was invited, so I came. Nothing more.”

  


“Ok,” she said, but her eyes still watched her suspiciously. “Come. Let’s sit.”

  


Over the next hour or so, Bilquis introduced her to many different people, including one guy who took a pointed interest in her. She did what was expected, played the part of normal, happy Laura, and laughed and talked and occasionally flirted, but she felt very little from it, and she wasn’t surprised. Deep inside she was being crushed by overwhelming disappointment.

  


She gloomily watched as he disappeared between rooms and groups of people, drinking way too much and getting loud. At first he would look for her, catching her eye and mouthing his sorries and she’d shrug and say it was ok even though it wasn’t.

  


But after a while he stopped looking for her, and it was just her, eyeing him through the crowd as she half listened to the people she was sitting with drone on about things she could have cared less about. The disappointment she’d first felt eventually turned to annoyance, and then anger that finally snapped and broke her when she watched him pull a squealing blonde in a tight pink dress into his lap. The woman laughed when he tightened his arms around her waist, and buried his face into her hair to whisper something into her ear.

  


“Fuck this.” She stood so quickly a few people around her jumped.

  


“What?” Bilquis asked.

  


“I gotta go,” she said to her, offering up no other explanation. She turned abruptly and slipped through the crowd of people standing around them.

  


Over the pulse of the music, she thought she heard Bilquis’ voice calling to her, but she couldn’t be sure, and even if she had it wouldn’t have stopped her. The noise and the press of bodies and her own embarrassment and vulnerability were too much for her to take. She was losing her control and she had to get out.

  


He caught her in the foyer, his hand lightly holding her elbow and turning her to him. She stilled at the contact, met his eyes full of care and concern, and clenched her jaw and her fists.

  


“Where are you going?”

  


“I’m leaving, and don’t fucking touch me,” she said sharply, pulling her arm away and shrugging on her jacket.

  


He pulled his hand back like he'd been stung. “Why?”

  


“Because this is not my scene, and I honestly don’t know why I came.

  


“It’s not really mine either,” he admitted weakly.

  


She laughed harshly. “Seriously? Could’ve fooled me.”

  


“What does that mean?”

  


“If you hate it so much, then get them to leave. No ones stopping you.”

  


“I mean, I can’t… It’s people from the movie and stuff, and it just doesn’t work that way.”

  


She sighed. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this. How could she have been so stupid?

  


“You’re right. My bad. I forgot about the actor ego shit,” she said, flipping her hair out from the inside her jacket. She turned to the door, but paused as her hand touched the doorknob. She turned back to him. “Why did you invite me anyway?”

  


“Because I wanted to see you.”

  


She nodded. “I came here to see you, too. And…” Her voice drifted as she considered what she would say next, and if she was willing to reveal any more of herself. She closed her eyes and sighed. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve felt… But it doesn’t matter. I’ve been here for almost two hours and you’ve talked to me for maybe five minutes. So you didn’t want to see me that bad.”

  


“I know, I…” he stumbled, his expression pained. “Fuck, you just make me…”

  


“Save it. If I _made_ you anything we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” She turned again and opened the door, letting a blast of frigid winter air into the house.

  


“Christ! It’s fuckin’ freezing!”

  


“Ya, no shit.”

  


”Just, fuck, hold on. Can I make it up to you?” He asked, following her out even though he was shaking from the cold.

  


“Not likely. Go back in, you’ll freeze to death.”

  


“Laura, please.”

  


She turned and looked up at him, at his worried eyes and his messy hair, his rumpled shirt and the suspender that slipped from his shoulder, and part of her knew it, that he was sorry. He was drunk. So drunk. And mistakes happened, she knew that more than anyone else. She wasn’t perfect. Neither was he. For a split second she considered it, what it would be like if she gave him a chance and risked being vulnerable for once.

  


She knew he could sense it, her brief indecision. He inhaled deeply and took a tentative step to her, and she let him get close. He lifted his hand to push her hair from her forehead, and the movement was so slow and gentle that it made something in her chest ache.

  


“Sweeney?”

  


He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

  


Laura peeked under his arm. The woman he’d had his arms around just minutes before was standing in the foyer behind them, her head cocked to one side, her eyes sliding from the back of Sweeney’s head to make eye contact with Laura.

  


Laura scoffed and shook her head.

  


“You coming back?” She purred, her eyes glued to Laura’s in some sort of silent battle for dominance.

  


“Ya just a minute, I’m busy,” he sighed.

  


Laura looked at the girl again, taking in her short, tight dress and her stiletto heels and her long nails that she tapped impatiently on the smooth skin of her crossed arms. Everything about her screamed of what Laura hated the most. And the best part was that she had absolutely nothing on Laura. Deep down Laura knew she was better, and if she really wanted to, she could make her cry with just the venom of her words.

  


The problem was that she didn’t care. She’d stopped caring a long time ago. Something had broken her, or changed her. And now the anger that had boiled inside of her was no longer aimed at him. She’d turned it on herself and her weakness. For letting herself believe she could trust him when she could barely trust herself. For letting herself be seen, even just a little.

  


“You’re not busy,” Laura said. She held his gaze for a minute, trying to look past the haziness of the alcohol to find the thing she had seen before, but it was lost to her. She smiled sadly, and backed away, cutting him off when he opened his mouth to protest. “I think you’re needed in there.”

  


She turned and walked away. She didn’t let people in. She’d forgotten that, but she remembered now.

  


“Fuck. Laura, wait!” He shouted into the air, but the cold acted like a sponge, absorbing the sound of his desperation before it reached her ears.

  


She kept going, careful to avoid the ice this time, and she didn’t look back, and she didn’t let herself think about it. Not when she opened the door, not when she turned on the car, and not as she pulled down the drive.

  


It wasn’t until she pulled her car into her own driveway that she let herself feel it, all the things she always swallowed down, the sadness and the anger and the embarrassment, and when she did she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the tears, because no matter how bad she felt, she refused to cry. She never cried.


	4. There Won't Be A Next Time

# “There Won’t Be A Next Time”

  


“So I met with the director last week, the one I introduced you to last night, and they’re going to use the cafe for a few scenes. They were in here this morning figuring out some angles and lighting. Exciting, right?”

  


Laura grimaced, a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Sure, I suppose.”

  


She was sitting in her favorite cafe, which also happened to be her friend’s cafe. Bilquis had moved to Eagle Point for a guy. Laura had met her at one of the shittier dive bars in town, one that Laura frequented regularly because it was boring and dark, she was almost always left alone and it let her disappear from herself for a few hours. When Bilquis walked into the bar on the night that they met, she was feeling particularly moody. It was hard to miss her. She was golden, glamorous, and ethereal, not the qualities of someone who drank in a bar like Whiskey Jacks of Eagle Point, Indiana.

  


Laura watched her curiously, and smiled appreciatively when Bilquis was able to maintain her coolness and casually tell one of the local drunks to kindly go fuck himself. They made eye contact, and when Bilquis’ returned her smile with a slow, meaningful one of her own. Laura knew she’d met an equal.

  


A year later, Bilquis had ditched the guy and instead of leaving Eagle Point in the dust like most people who weren’t chained there, she bought a coffee shop in the center of town. It had quickly become one of Laura’s favorite places. She would go there before her shifts at the bar, catching up with Bilquis and loading up on caffeine, or on weekends when she would drag all of her books there and sit in the worn leather chair by the window to read in peace. 

  


But it was in moments like this that Laura was reminded that her friendship with Bilquis came with a cost. With Bilquis she was unable to hide completely. Laura’s usual diversion tactics rarely worked on her. She could always see right through her.

  


“Speaking of the movie crowd,” she said, lowering herself into the chair across from Laura, “Why did you run off last night? And be honest.”

  


“I did not run off. I just forgot to feed Dummy,” Laura said defensively.

  


“I said be honest,” Bilquis reminded her, clicking her tongue in disappointment.

  


“I am! You know how Dummy gets when I don’t feed him on time.”

  


“Salim told me,” she said, ignoring her. “He said you really hit off with one of them. The tall redheaded one whose house we happened to be at last night.”

  


Her mouth opened in exaggerated shock. “I did not!”

  


“Sweeney, right? He’s a troublemaker, that one,” Bilquis said, chuckling as she sipped her coffee. “Or so I hear.”

  


Laura bristled and stared absently out the window. “I wouldn’t know.”

  


Bilquis laughed, loud and long, and despite herself, Laura smiled at the sound.

  


“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she sighed, turning back to her. “Dating, or whatever, is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  


“So, I guess you haven’t heard from him then?” Bilquis asked, narrowing her eyes.

  


Laura sipped her latte. “Him, who?”

  


“Laura.”

  


She huffed and rolled her eyes. “What?”

  


“You know who. Shadow who.”

  


Hearing his name sent a hard tremor through her, and she took a deep breath to catch the rush of anxiety before it morphed into something more. She set her cup back on the small wooden table and looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “No. I haven’t. Not for weeks actually.”

  


Bilquis leaned back in her chair and nodded slowly, her dark eyes watching Laura closely. Laura shifted uncomfortably.

  


“And…” She added, searching for the scraps of confidence she’d spend the past month gathering and clinging to, “I think it’s probably for the best. It would never have lasted forever, anyway.”

  


“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened?”

  


“I told you what happened,” Laura said quietly. “It just didn’t work out. We’re two different people.”

  


“Ok,” Bilquis said, her eyes lingering on Laura long enough for her to know she didn’t believe her, but not long enough to push her. It was another reason Laura was grateful for her friendship. She knew when to call Laura on her bullshit, but also when to let her be. For the time being, at least.

  


“Hey. You want a scone?” Bilquis asked cheerfully, changing the subject. “I just made them last night? They’re so good.”

  


“Can I take it to go? I have a shift.”

  


She stood and began stuffing her books into her bag. One that was particularly large and heavy slipped from her hand and landed with a loud thud on the floor. Bilquis reached down and picked it up.

  


“What’s this?” She held the book up and read the title. “‘The Egyptian Book of the Dead’?”

  


Laura tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and lifted the book from Bilquis' hand. “It’s nothing, just something I’m reading,” she mumbled, stuffing it into her overloaded bag with the rest.

  


“Not exactly light reading. Looks a little like a college book,” she said.

  


“Nope, just a book book. I thought it was… interesting.”

  


She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Shit, I gotta run.”

  


“Wait, what about the scone?”

  


She turned in front of the door and smiled apologetically. “Save me one for later?”

  


She pushed through the door and hurried across the street, the cold air hitting her face, and then her lungs, with a blast of refreshing air. She took several deep breaths to switch gears into work mode, and headed into the bar.

  


“You're late again,” Salim said casually as she flew through the door, tying her hair into a high, messy ponytail as she went.

  


She nodded hellos to a couple of the waitresses, and ducked under the bar. “I know, I got caught up across the street. Is he here?”   


  


“No, he’s late too,” he replied with a smile, looking up at her from the limes he was cutting.

  


“Thank god,” she sighed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “How are you?”

  


“Good. What’s the news from Bilquis?”

  


“Same. They’re filming some scenes at the cafe and she’s excited about it.”

  


“And the news from last night?” He asked, looking up at her hopefully.

  


She sighed, shaking her head as she tied her apron around her waist. “Nothing. Literally nothing.”

  


“Nothing?”

  


“Yes. Nothing,” she repeated, failing to check the annoyance in her tone. “He was drunk, there were other women, I left early. End of story.”

  


“Nothing else happened? Are you sure? I just could have sworn he…”

  


“Are you saying I’m lying? Because if you are, you’ll be the second person today,” she said curtly.

  


“No, sorry, of course not,” he said apologetically. Laura looked at him at him and sighed. She wished she could tell the truth. Lying to Salim, of all people, was nearly impossible. But she could barely be honest with herself, how was she expected to be honest with other people?

  


She reached out and squeezed his hand gently. “I’m sorry. I just feel like a fucking idiot. I should never have gone.”

  


“Don’t say that, maybe he just…”

  


“No, please. Don’t defend him.”

  


Salim smiled and threw his hands up in defense. “Hey, you know I’m always on your side.”

  


“Better be,” she grumbled.

  


“Are you ok?”

  


“Not really,” she sighed. “But I will be.

  


“Hey. Next time, I’ll go with you,” he offered.

  


“Thanks, but there won’t be a next time,” she insisted.

  


“There’s gonna be a next time.”

  


They both turned as Ifrit walked towards them from the back office. “The director just booked the bar for Saturday night. A welcome for the cast and crew.”

  


“What?” They both cried in unison, Laura’s exclamation much less thrilled than Salim’s.

  


“It’s a big deal for us,” he said, leaning on the bar, casually shuffling through the mail. “This is different from other times. The crew is massive, the names are bigger. We need to be on point.”

  


Laura and Salim gave each other the side eye as they nodded.

  


“And Laura, don’t be late for this.” He lowered his sunglasses and looked at her pointedly.   


  


“I’m never late,” she mumbled petulantly under her breath.

  


“Ok, I’m going to run a couple errands. Salim’s in charge.”

  


Laura closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall. “Fuck me.”

  


“Hey, look on the brightside. These groups always tip really well.”

  


“I guess,” she groaned, pouting. “And why are you always left in charge?”

  


He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a little more responsible.”

  


She pushed off the wall abruptly and leaned in close to study him. Salim pulled his face back, and eyed her warily.

  


“How did Ifrit know there was a ‘first time’? Did he know I went to that party?” She asked suspiciously.

  


Salim’s eyes went wide. “I… I don’t know. Maybe he overheard us talking, you know how nosy he is.”

  


“Did you say something to him, maybe?”

  


“No!”

  


“Hmm…,” she hummed, still unsatisfied. “What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

  


A blush spread furiously across his cheeks. “Nothing!”

  


Laura smiled slyly, turning to greet the people who were walking up to the bar. “Who’s the liar now?”

  


\-----------------------------

  


Sweeney kept his distance from the bar for a week, and part of her was grateful for it. It gave her the time and space she needed to convince herself of all of the reasons for why she needed to let it go. ‘It would never work’ had become a mantra she would repeat to herself when she found her mind drifting to thoughts of him, especially when those thoughts would cause her heart to flutter and her chest to ache.

  


She’d spent a week convincing herself, and when she went into work on Saturday she felt fully prepared for whatever the night would bring.

  


But no amount of preparation could have prepared her for the reaction her body would have at seeing him again, and inwardly cursed as the walls she had meticulously built began to crumble.

  


His eyes searched for her, and when he found her he held on, even as the people around him gave him hugs and said their enthusiastic hellos. Her startled nerves fired and spread waves through her body, a flush of heat cooled by an icy rush. She’d held his gaze, partly by accident, but mostly because she couldn’t find the strength to look away.

  


Separating himself from the crowd, he walked purposefully towards her. It was then that she was able to look away, her mind scrambling to find all the reasons she hated him. She grit her teeth, and remembered, not just his faults, but hers. And hers felt worse.

  


_It will never work._

  


He leaned heavily on the bar in front of her, and she sucked in a deep breath and focused all of her attention on the glasses she was organizing.

  


“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, trying not to draw attention.

  


She nodded and continued to stack the glasses. “Ok.”

  


“Sometimes when I drink that much I act like an asshole.”

  


“I said it was fine, really. You don’t need to explain anything.”

  


“It won’t happen next time.”

  


“You’re right. It won’t,” she said, giving him her sweetest smile. “Because there won’t be a next time.”

  


“Oh, I was kinda hoping...”

  


“Ya I’m working right now, so I really can’t do this with you.”

  


She turned and walked to the other end of the bar.

  


“Are you ok?” Salim asked.   


  


“Don’t it’s… I’m fine.” She chewed nervously on her bottom lip and peeked at Sweeney from under her lashes, watching him as he pushed angrily off the bar, his jaw clenched in frustration, whether at her or himself, she didn’t know. When he reached his friends, he more than gladly accepted two shots of a smooth brown liquor, easily knocking both back, one after the other. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and looked back at her. The nervous energy she had been holding in jolted her, and she quickly looked away and turned her back.

  


Fuck, she thought, letting her eyes drift closed. It was going to be a long night.


	5. You Can't Hide Forever

# “You Can’t Hide Forever”

  


Sweeney was getting loud.

  


She watched him over her shoulder as she vigorously shook a cocktail shaker, dread settling in her stomach.

  


The glasses were piling up in front of him faster than the waitresses could clear them, and he was in and out of the bar like a fly, smoking and laughing and stealing not so subtle glances at her through the window.

  


“That’s the one I was telling you about. Brigitte,” Salim whispered into her ear, drawing her attention away from the corner he was sitting in.

  


“Who?”

  


“The actress.”

  


She stared at him blankly.

  


He shook his head and turned her shoulders towards a small, stunning woman tossing her head back as she laughed, her red hair shimmying over her shoulders.

  


“Oh.”

  


_That_ Brigitte. The ‘thin arms snaking around Sweeney’s neck, her body pressed against his’ Brigitte. She remembered how stupid she felt when he leaned into her body as if she weren’t standing right there, watching him, and it set her teeth on edge.

  


“Ya, I know her,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

  


Salim turned her back around to face him, his eyes wide. “You do? She’s co-starring in the movie with him. I think she’s playing his love interest.”

  


“Oh, well good for him. She’s stunning.”

  


She finished pouring the cocktail and smiled as she placed it on the bar for the waitress to take and deliver.

  


“So are you,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze.

  


“Thanks,” she said. “But you don’t have to. I’m not _that._ I won’t ever be.”

  


“Don’t say…”

  


“Hey! Can we focus on working here?” Ifrit shouted from the back. His raised arms fell to his sides in exasperation.

  


She nodded dully and moved on to the next order.

  


Nights when the movie crowd was in town always kept her busy, and she almost always walked away with more than she would see in a month with just the locals. It was money that she needed, money that helped her save up for the things she wanted in her life. Things that might make her happier.

  


And until recently, she had enjoyed it, for the most part. Then something shifted inside of her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t completely unexpected. For a very long time she had stirrings that brought with it waves of unhappiness and loneliness. Feelings she would try to pretend didn’t exist, or that she would deal with in dark ways and then avoid responsibility. And whether it had been her fallout with Shadow that had thrust it back into the forefront, she didn’t know. She only knew that she was beginning to feel it now more than ever, and hiding it away was getting harder to do. 

  


Especially now, as he kept his gaze locked onto her, looking both at her and through her as if he could see her internal battle like it was written plainly on her face. It left her feeling edgy, vulnerable and exposed.

  


Several times through the night he did come to the bar, but she’d pretend she was busy so that Salim would take him, noticing the disappointment, and eventual annoyance, on his face.

  


She felt bad, but there was a small piece of her that enjoyed turning the tables on him, and making him squirm. She liked the feeling of control that it brought, and she found that her joy in his suffering was so strong that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling. When a guy went to her for a drink, she would use it as an opportunity to mess with him, and she would laugh and smile and flirt just so she could watch him from the corner of her eye as he tensed and shifted uncomfortably. Sometimes he would start to get up, but sit right back down, his fists clenched tightly on top of the table.

  


She’d made a game of it to help her get through, and everytime she looked up she consciously avoided his gaze, and only stole peaks at him when she knew he was preoccupied and distracted by someone, usually a woman. And that was often, too often according to the sinking feeling in her stomach she tried desperately to ignore. To say that women flocked to him would be an understatement. He was surrounded by them at nearly all times, and there was at least one woman holding his interest at any given moment. He was like the sun, and everyone else were the planets pulled helplessly into his orbit.

  


But even as they buzzed around him, laughing at his jokes, touching his arm, batting their eyelashes, he still looked for her, as if it were a game for him too, and he was testing how far he could go before she would crack.

  


It worked, she’d never admit it, but it worked.

  


Each time her heart pumped a little harder and a lot faster, and she had to pause and focus on her breathing to stop anxiety that would try to swell.

  


It wasn’t until the end of the night drew near, and the call for last drinks went out, that she’d been caught when she thought she’d be safe.

  


She looked up to gather the empty bottles and glasses from the bartop, and there he was, staring her right in the eye, and not as drunk as he had been at his house, but getting there. There was a twitch in his lip, and he released a deep sigh at the long overdue contact.

  


Her heart leapt wildly into her throat. _Shit._

  


She quickly looked away and cleared her throat. “Salim will be with you in a minute.”

  


“I don’t want him. I wanna talk to you.”

  


She took a deep breath, and wiped her hands on her apron. She could imagine what she must look like, her makeup sliding off of her face, replaced by a sheen of sweat worked up from the busy night, and hair that had loosened from its hold and frizzed around her head. She touched at it nervously, smoothing it back into her ponytail.

  


“What’s up?” She asked, keeping a clear distance that wasn’t lost on him.

  


He shook his head bitterly and ran his tongue over his teeth. “You've been avoiding me, then?”

  


“What? No, that’s absurd.”

  


“You’re lying. Everytime I come up here ya give this guy here the nod.”

  


They both looked at Salim watching them from the other end of the bar. His eyes went wide and he turned away.

  


“You’re wrong.” Her eyes snapped back to his, and was met with distrust.

  


“You’re tryin’ to get back at me for the other night, that it?”

  


“Seriously?” She laughed. “I could care less about the other night.”

  


“There! You’re lying again,” he said, pointing at her.

  


“I’m not,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

  


He leaned against the bar and lowered his voice like he was about to tell her some deep secret. “I’ve been watching you, and I’m startin’ to figure it out.”

  


”Oh ya? Tell me, what have you figured out?”  


”You’re hiding from something. You’re good, but not good enough. You think no one knows, but I can see right through it. And that scares you. Tell me, has anyone ever seen the real Laura McCabe? Or am I the first?”

  


She blinked several times, frozen in a sudden state of shock. A wave of nausea swept over her, and her mind fired wild excuses that she couldn’t form into words. “I…”

  


“Told ya I knew ya…” he said, smiling smugly.

  


It was the quirk of self satisfaction in his smile that rocketed her back to the moment, and lit a furious fire inside of her. She glared at him, her heart pounding with all of the pent up frustration and the hurt, the feelings she pushed far below and the constant war she had with herself, and now with him.

  


“Fuck you,” she said evenly.

  


She lifted herself onto the bar and swung her legs around, hopping off on the other side. She stepped up to him, squaring her small shoulders, and lifted her chin to stare him in the face.

  


“You remember earlier when you said you act like an asshole when you’re fucked up? Well, this is one of those moments. Except now you’re in _my_ place of work.” Her arms flew up, gesturing wildly to the room around her, garnering the attention of a few people, including Salim, who had moved closer to her.

  


He swallowed and stared at her hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off sharply. “You don’t know _anything_ about me. So shut the fuck up, and go the fuck home. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  


She whipped around and began to walk away.

  


“What happened to you? What are you so fucking scared of?”

  


She stilled, her shoulders tensed and fists clenched. She spun around.

  


“What did you say?”

  


He sauntered towards, his bumping over each chair at the bar as he slid closer. When he reached her, he towered over her in such a way that she felt suffocated, and out of control.

  


“I said, what happened to you that made you so fucking scared? You can’t hide forever.”

  


“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  


“Laura…” Salim warned. He had stepped under the bar and moved behind her, his hands brushing her shoulders.

  


“No!” She shouted, shaking him off. “You don’t fucking know me. What, you’re pissed because I won’t talk to you? Did it hurt your giant fucking ego? I gave you a chance, and you fucked it up. Remember?”

  


“What happened to you, huh?” he asked again, ignoring her and the silence that had crept over the bar, continuing to push her, stepping close enough that she had to crane her neck to look at him.

  


“What did someone do to you that turned you into such a raging, fucking cu…”

  


The last time she had punched someone had been Audrey Burton, and it had happened exactly one month ago. She hadn’t meant to do it, but Audrey had called her a slut after thinking she had slept with her dog of a husband Robbie. She hadn’t, and she wasn’t a slut, but when she said the word, her body, and her fist, reacted before she even realized what was happening.

  


That time she’d felt bad. This time was different. This time she knew exactly what she was doing, she knew who she was hitting, and though she knew that this was going to get her into a shit ton of trouble, she was ready to do anything to wipe that self-satisfied smile off his face.

  


The first punch flew hard and high, hitting his right cheek with a hard smack, snapping his head back. The second hit immediately after, and did the most damage, her ring catching the thin skin over his cheekbone and splitting it with a small, clean line. This time he stumbled back a couple steps, more from shock than actual pain, but she made him move and that was enough for her. She considered hitting him a third time, just for good measure, but they were already surrounded. Ifrit’s thick arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back as she was moving forward.

  


“What the fuck, Laura!”

  


She could barely hear him shouting in her ear. Her heart was racing with the adrenaline that rushed through her body. The feeling was euphoric, something she hadn’t felt in such a long time, so she clung to it, panting and glaring at him, willing him to look at her. She felt like she was in a bubble, the movement and shouting and the finger pointing dull to the point of soundless, and then their eyes met.

  


His hand went to his cheek, touching where she had hit him. He looked at the blood on his fingers, then back up at her, his expressions shifting and changing from one to the next in just a matter of seconds. Shock, hurt, realization, interest, and…desire? His lip curled into a smile that both infuriated her and excited her and she found herself smiling back before she lost sight of him as Ifrit dragged her up and away and the chaos of the bar came rushing back in.

  


“Are you fucking kidding me! Do you know what this is going to do to the movie? He’s our lead fucking actor.”

  


The director, the one that Laura had met, but had cared about so little she didn’t remember his name, pointed his finger at Ifrit.

  


“Do you know what this’ll cost me? All because you can’t control your own fucking staff?!” He turned to Laura, standing quietly next to Salim, his arm draped over her, and he jabbed an angry finger at her.  


  


“Are you fucking insane!?” He screamed. “You’re gonna pay for this you little bitch.”

  


“Hey!” Ifrit shouted, rolling to the sleeves of his sweater and stepping to the director.

  


But Sweeney moved quicker. He pushed off the group of people that crowded around him, batting away a stricken Brigitte who had been dabbing a napkin to his bleeding cheek, and positioned himself in between the director and Laura.

  


“That’s enough,” he said, his angry voice booming through the still, tense air. “It wasn’t her fucking fault. I started it, and I’ll take care of it. But you call her a fucking bitch again and I’ll walk right off this movie, understand.”

  


“Sweeney,” the director laughed nervously. “You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

  


“Try me. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  


The smile disappeared from his face when he realized how serious he was, and he cleared his throat and took a step back.

  


“Fine. Fine. But I want you in makeup first thing tomorrow so I can see what they can do about fixing this fucking mess.”

  


Sweeney agreed, and looked up the small group of people remaining in the bar.

  


“Everyone go the fuck home. Shows over.”

  


He grabbed his jacket from the bar, glanced at her hesitantly over his shoulder, and walked out.

  


She barely had a second to catch her breath, when Ifrit was front of her, eyes filled with fire.

  


“What the fuck were you thinking, Laura? Where did that come from?”

  


“You didn’t hear what he called me!” She cried. “A cu… c word.”

  


“It’s true,” Salim piped in from behind the bar. “The c word.”

  


“Look, I get it. I do,” he said to her. “But you can’t react like that, not in this business. Tell me and I’ll take care of it. Hitting a guest, especially a fucking major actor, isn’t going to fly here.”

  


“Why do we even care? They’re in our town for five minutes, all they do is talk shit and ruin everything, and we have to bend over backwards for them?”

  


”Yes, within reason. I need their business, Laura. _We_ need their business,” he said seriously. “And you know I like you, but I can’t have you here if this is what it’s going to be like when they’re here.”

  


“I know,” she said wearily. “I know, and I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  


“She is, Ifrit,” Salim said quietly.

  


“Salim,” he warned, raising a hand to silence him, and then looked at him apologetically.

  


He turned back to Laura. “I know you are. I just need to think right now,” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “And to clean up this fucking mess.”

  


“Let me help,” Laura offered eagerly.

  


“No. Just… go home, Laura.”

  


Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. She bit her lip and nodded, and Salim handed her her bag and coat from behind the bar.

  


He gave her a comforting smile and rubbed her arm, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Do you want some ice for you hand? I told you that you could be scary."

  


She quickly covered her mouth to stifle a snort of laughter, and pulled back to look at him, her sadness melting away as she looked into his grinning face. She flashed him a smile, and a wink, and headed out into the night.

  



End file.
